I'll never hate anything as much as I hate what I've become, I don't know what I am anymore, I can't believe that's me, I can't look in the mirror without feeling disgust and I feel disconnected from myself when I read my own messages. I can't believe I said any of that, it'll be an ordinary conversation but it just doesn't feel like me anymore; nothing feels like me. I don't know where I lost myself so I can't go back and search, every day feels like the same static noise yet I find myself wondering why my time distortion gets so bad. There's no difference between the days, the words are smudged together everything feels like a blur. I feel like the last puzzle piece to a puzzle I'm no longer a part of, I pray every day that someone, anyone, will tell me those magic words that'll make it all worth it again, but I don't even know what those words are anymore. I used to think it was love, but I've now realized I simply do not feel that in the way other people do. I can't wait to wake up tomorrow and be burdened with their reliance on me, I'm sorry I can't make you happy, but I don't know what you expect when I can't even keep myself happy. I can't even start it up, I've completely corrupted my copy and now you're asking me where to go mid game, I never reached it man but I really do wish I could've been there with you. It kills me every day that I can't share any emotions with you, I still wonder if I'm gaslighting myself when I do/don't believe any of this is real. I really wish it were love, I wish I had that meaning as to why it's worth continuing, but I just can't find it. I swear I've looked harder than anyone ever has before. I've searched for meaning everywhere from the illusionary love that surrounded me to my darkest delusions. No where. I can't even see a glimmer of light from the stars in the night sky anymore. Why does everyone act like it's so simple? Why is it that when I reach my hand out I repel what I reach for? We're scared to reach out, a star in the night, in fear of the dark between us and the light, but as others come, we reap what we sow while we stare in envy as they catch the glow. The envy burdened me for so long, but by then I felt as if I were drowning, arms swaying barely breaking the surface, where nothing could hear how badly I wanted it as if my screams were muffled by what drowned me. I fucking hate you people who realize how bad it's gotten, but cling onto your overoptimism as if it'll change the truth you're letting sit on your chest digging its claws in while you gasp for air as it pierces your lungs. How deep does it have to cut for you to realize the issue? I'll never sugar coat again, I'll never even lie again, I'll never pretend it's okay when it's not. I don't respect anybody anyway, your approval no longer means anything to me, even though I used to be that boy who wanted nothing more than to be accepted. Some of my closest *friends* swear I do, deep down, still care about perception, but I don't think that's it. I simply miss who I was when I cared, I miss when I believed people had an inherent good to them, as in the time since, that shred of hope for any good has strayed way too far out of reach. It's really cute how some people try to put what they think I like around me, as if it would improve my mental health in any way, I can respect your efforts but it always ends up burdening me. It'll never be perfect. I can't settle for less. Even when I know I have so much more potential than everybody around me, if I were to push and achieve everything I can, I'd still feel like nothing, I get the approval of people I no longer care about and I've achieved something that means nothing to me. I don't want to get to know you, almost everybody new I meet I don't even want to know, I always have some ulterior motive as if I have some benefit from knowing them. From doing this, I've noticed some of these people are actually good people for what it's worth and as far as I can see, so I start to feel bad when I get any benefit from knowing them, I hate how fucking toxic I am. I feel bad for everyone who tells me they care about me, that's if they're even telling the truth, as from this point until forever, I'll remain the estranged paranoiac I've only recently came to realize I've always been. I swear I was pondering the majority of this from when I was 9 years old, if not younger, be it not on the same level as it is now. Nobody really had the same interests as me, I was weird, there's definitely something very wrong in my head but I never got diagnosed for anything, so it's stayed ripping at my flesh since I formed my first coherent thought. It's at the point of no return, you've woke up from your dream, you know it was all a ruse, you'll never believe like you did in the moment. I feel my breath as I write this growing empty, it's like I'm getting less and less oxygen every breath. I don't even know what I'm trying to say, I'll write this, host it on the domain I wish I never bought, send it to some people I think are okay, maybe even like, although deep down I don't believe they're anything more than a figment of my imagination, I don't understand how it works so I don't understand the deterministic values behind their responses, but oh well. I share because it gives a sensation of relief, like it's off my chest I guess. It really fucking hurts and it feels like nobody can hear me, maybe they can't see me either, the issues are so glaring but they either don't see or choose to ignore them. They never cared in the first place, I don't know why they keep up this lie. Your lies disgust me. The one thing I'll never be is a liar. Never tell me how you think I should see things ever again, your takes are fucking meaningless to me, I tell you to get things off my chest, that's how it always has been and always will be. I've never been given any advice, all I'm told to do is try again, as if that's not a fucking delusion. Nothing has changed since, why would I expect a different result? I tried so many fucking times it pains me every day. My friend told me the other day about how his brother killed himself, how it felt like he saw his brother really try for things to get better, but his attempts at bettering himself fell futile and ended up catching the bus. At least that's how I remember what he said, I don't trust my mind anymore. I feel like that'll be how my brother looks at my situation if I do anything, he watched me try for years just for nothing to ever work, I tell myself none of this is real as a cope sometimes, I don't want to believe this is real, I don't want to believe this pain and the evil I can't look away from actually exists, God never loved us, she never hated us either, but evil seems to be the common nature for as far as I can see. I see it the same way I see temperature, 'coldness', in the most simplest way, is nothing more than activity. Activity as in movement, speed of movement is what creates heat, I may be speaking incorrectly or with the wrong terminology scientifically, but I feel my point still stands. Cold is the natural state of the universe, heat has to be created. I see evil as the natural state of the universe, where good has to be created. What loving creator would allow for any of this to happen? Don't spend your love on a masqueraded jester, you can not love the loveless. I don't feel love for anyone around me, I like people, sometimes, but I don't feel love. I remember when I was 5 or so at a relatives house with all my family, I brought up love and everyone just laughed. I don't know if that flipped a switch in me, but I just can't take love seriously anymore. The first time I told my mother I loved her I was 17, and even then I said it out of pity, since it seemed it meant something to her. It's not that I don't appreciate her, I just never truly materialized here with what feels like the necessities to be considered human. I used to tell my family I didn't like hugs, I wasn't lying, I didn't, I felt so disgusting engaging in something that was meant to resemble connection between people, knowing I felt nothing. Eventually I gave in, once again due to it clearly meaning something to them, but I never felt right hugging any of them. Affection feels so foreign to me. I feel terrible saying this, almost everyone I've ever told I don't feel anything regularly reacted negatively. Nothing is wrong with you, the problem is me, but I have no idea how to fix myself. It feels like I shifted into a room with no doors, no way in or out, I have no idea how I ended up here. This all terrifies me. I don't void blame on myself, but I know this isn't all my fault. It terrifies me that something that affects me so drastically seemingly conjured from nothing. Half my family is narcissistic at best, psychopathic at worst. I wrote something not too long ago about one relative I have, how I missed when he wasn't as bad as he is now, how we watched the stars one of those nights and I wish you stayed how you were. You were never good to me, I don't know what you are, I hate trying to like you people. You were emotionless, you weren't watching with me, you were simply there. I won't forget what you did at nans house. You're even worse now anyway, you're a psychopathic paedophile I don't know how you're still accepted. The rest of the family isn't great anyway, I guess it's something about being the same blood. That's my blood man, I know I'm a terrible person but fuck. I only really feel bad for one family member, fuck how the world did you wrong. Worse than me. It felt good seeing you the other day though, you seemed happier, maybe that was a façade too. The person I felt cared the most for me when I was young is also psychopathic and abusive, it was shielded from me, I guess I didn't have it as bad as the rest, it hurt hearing how you had your head smashed against the tap, you really do seem like a great person to me, I don't know why you were neglected the most, but you still made things work man you somehow found love, I'll always envy that from all of you. Everyone is traumatized. I wonder when the day will come, if ever, that I finally talk about how centric I feel to everything that happens. It's why I tell myself none of this is real, I feel like a main character but not in a good way, in a humiliating way similar to Truman Show Delusion, but not quite the same, in an even more nonsensical way. Like everything is designed to torment me, like some sort of deity above just fucking hates me and created me as some crude mockery of what a human is. Knowledge is a curse, people are so intelligent yet so limited in the field that it becomes a curse. No other species is questioning the meaning of life, it's really just us, but us being the only ones who question it, are no where near intelligent enough to actually answer the question. We are left meaningless, unless we delude ourselves into believing a lie, or relying on subjective meaning. I don't know how you can look at the question as absurd and move on with things, I understand it may be counterproductive to concern yourself with what you can not answer, but I just can't let it go. I feel so close yet so far, I know that light exists, it's far too late for me to look back. I wish I thought how everyone else did, maybe then I'd have something to be happy about, I'd feel that connection with people, maybe I could even have a girlfriend. Maybe I'd love her, maybe I'd see the world through tinted glasses that made it all appear okay. Maybe I'd have a favourite colour, a hobby that I cherish and all I'd want to do is talk about that. Could I even fucking imagine? I could laugh at how well I'd done, how much it meant to me, maybe I'd even want to live because it'd all be worth staying for. I remember back in school I knew something was wrong, I was trying so hard to get better and there was nothing I wanted more than to get better. I wanted to prove it's possible, I envisioned myself helping people in the future who felt as hopeless as I once did (it's even worse now), I wanted to prove to myself that not only I could do it, but anyone could, I wanted to be that beacon of hope for people. I used to want to do it all. I was always so ambitious, that's ever since I was a kid, my enthusiasm towards those ambitions died down a lot but they still exist deep inside. I just see no reason to pursue them, if nothing matters to me right now, nothing will ever matter. The thought that I could really do everything I said I would, just to feel nothing from it, really fucking scares me. I exist in a limbo between caring too much and caring too little. Subconsciously, I still care for everyone, I'd even say I care too much, but my actions do not reflect it at all. It kills me when people know how agonizing this is in day to day life, but still question if I care at all. For what my feelings are worth, I care as much as I'm still capable of, despite feeling as if all emotion I feel is fractured, no longer in the form it once was. I hate how intelligent I was from such a young age, I felt like an adult in the body of a child. I really took advantage of that, because I'm a sick person. I remember using that to entice someone into doing something with me, to refrain from too many details all I'll say is it was sexual, it really just took a few simple words man, I regret everything I did, I don't want to see their face again as I know they remember that day. They're not a bad person though, it's nothing against them, I just don't like knowing what I've done. I hate knowing I'm me. I hate my name, my alias, I hate everything about me, I used to look good, I let everything go, I let everything good about me fade away, I watched it happen, I didn't care, I was cold, I didn't know it could get colder. I hate showing my face in public, my hair falls past my chin, I feel like a fucking monster I just can't fucking win. Sometimes people look at me funny, sometimes they even laugh. I feel like a zombie whenever I'm outside, I was at the doctors the other day she was calling out my name, I didn't even look at the right person my senses are fucking gone. I wonder if she thinks I didn't notice those sarcastic comments. Would you believe me if I told you I used to be someone? They all wanted to be like me, but I'd kill to be anyone except me. I miss every time where I felt I had some sort of connection with someone, it always turned out to be a lie, but it always felt good in those moments. I remember when they were my reason to show up those mornings, I didn't want anything else. None of them pay me a single thought anymore, they've probably forgotten my name, some have even forgotten my face, I miss the ones I neglected more than anybody else. I can't take anything I've done back, I can't believe this life is really it. I was born not by choice, by mere coincidence, or was it predetermined from the beginning? Regardless, I had no say in the matter, just to become far more aware than I should be before I had even hit puberty, never able to form true connections with anybody thus never having close friends, and for the ones I thought I did, they were the fakest out of anyone I'd met. I still cry whenever I think about how he knew how badly I wanted to die, just to never say a word, he was the one person I thought I could go to if I felt I had nothing left but it felt like a bullet to the heart when I heard that he knew, just to not say a word. We haven't spoke in 3 years now, I hope I never have to see his face again. Feeling empathetic towards those who never really cared for me, always feeling like the fool again. I say I'll never be the fool again, but it always comes back. You only come back when you need me, none of you are who you claim to be, you're all terrible people but I seem to be the only one who's honest about that. Maybe I'll kill myself today, maybe I'll grow old, I don't know anymore. It's the 14th of March as I write this, 14/3. This number has meaning, beautiful right? It means 'I Love You', is that not a beautiful day to die? Exactly 1 month after Valentines, 14/2, I think that's pretty cool. I don't want to die old, just to never find meaning. Dying now or later will be fundamentally indifferent if I never find meaning. Maybe I'll delude myself into thinking something is worth it again, just for it to come crashing down when it's going the best. I'm suspecting something may happen today, which if it does, it really will be the last straw. Maybe it won't, I still don't want to be here, the fact that this is all my life will ever be is so fucked up to me. I don't know if my memory is lying to me, but I vividly remember one song we used to sing in primary school it went along the lines of 'If I've not got any love in my heart, then nothing else really matters at all'. I really thought love was the missing puzzle piece for me, that I'd feel it one day, I just don't believe it anymore. I don't want to spend my life in pursuit of something that never existed in the first place. I'm glad I don't have many people around me, I don't want to be seen like this. They wouldn't care anyway. Maybe one day I'll be something that I can be proud of.